


Please Don't

by Inell



Series: Tumblr 600 Followers Celebration [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, FWB to More, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s never easy to remember the morning after on the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightstreet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=midnightstreet).



> For my 600 Followers Celebration: midnightstreet prompted - Stiles/Chris, "Please don't."
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“You know, if you keep running away, I’m going to start taking it personal.” Stiles is trying for glib humor, but even he can hear the break in his voice.

“I’m not running anywhere,” Chris says simply, voice gruff and a little harsh for the hours just before dawn. Stiles watches the tension enter his shoulders, watches him put the mask back on, watches him step right back into the grizzly old hunter with nothing left to lose role that he’s been playing the last few years.

“Right.” Stiles snorts, dragging his fingers through his sex-mussed hair and grimacing as he feels the dried come on his lower abdomen and thighs. That’s what he gets for not cleaning up after sex. With a disgusted groan, he rolls out of bed and starts looking for his clothes.

“Must you do this every single time?” Chris asks, his frustration dripping off every word. It would make Stiles feel guilty if he wasn’t also frustrated and more than a little hurt right now.

“What exactly is it that I’m doing, _Christopher_?” Stiles is proud of the snide tone he’s managed to pull off considering he’s feeling rather vulnerable right now. It’s like an open wound that’s been poked too many times, not allowed to heal, still sore and tender. That’s how Chris makes him feel afterwards. He just wishes he could remember this feeling as easily as he remembers the lust and need and desire that overtakes his good sense when Chris comes around.

It’s never easy to remember the morning after on the night before.

“You know what you’re doing. You’re a smart kid, after all.” Chris grabs Stiles’ shirt off the floor before he can pick it up. It forces Stiles to look at him, so he clenches his jaw and looks into cold blue eyes that make his pulse race. “I’m not the guy who is going to hang around for waffles in the morning, Stiles. You get what you want from me, so I don’t see why we have to go through this every time.”

“No, you’re the guy who shows up in town unannounced and comes over with that wicked smile and those pretty eyes that knows exactly how to play me,” Stiles says bluntly, not even caring that he’s admitting his weakness. They’ve been doing this for over two years now, since shortly before Stiles was even technically legal, staring after too many emotions got the best of them one night. It hadn’t been a one-time thing like he expected, though, and it’s just been happening more often since he moved into his own place.

Chris frowns. “I’m not playing you.” He moves his gaze over Stiles’ face, lingering on his lips before he looks up. “Sometimes I forget you’re still so fucking young. This is about sex. Great sex. But that’s all it can ever be, kid. I mean, you’re younger than my daughter was, and I’m not good for anyone. Hell, sometimes I think I’m cursed to bring misery and despair to anyone who gets too close.”

“Please don’t.” Stiles shakes his head. “I’m a big boy. I don’t need you using excuses about my age or some mythical curse to placate me. I knew from day one what you wanted because you made it clear. This is casual and easy sex with someone willing and eager, and it doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

“Then why do you insist on going through this argument all the time?” Chris stares at him intently. “All it does is piss us both off and ends the night on a negative note. It never changes anything. You’ll be ready and willing next time I come over, and we’ll have several hours together to escape reality. Why keep fucking it up with this pissy attitude?”

“Maybe because I keep hoping it might end differently one time?” Stiles reaches forward and takes his shirt out of Chris’ hands, pulling it over his head so he won’t feel so defenseless, for lack of a better word. “I don’t care how old you are, and I’ve been through hell, so some stupid curse doesn’t scare me, especially since it’s just the manifestation for your own fears. I stupidly think we could be good together, beyond the amazing sex, but what do I know?”

“Listen to the college boy,” Chris drawls, snide and harsh, eyes narrowing when Stiles can’t stop himself from wincing at the words. “I’m not scared of anything, kid. Especially not you. Sure, you’ve got a big dick that feels good inside me, but I can find one of those without all this drama.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Christ? Me or you?” Stiles huffs a laugh that drips with derision instead of amusement. “You need to leave now. I’m tired, and this is pointless. It’s never going to change, is it? I really am a dumbass for believing it might. You don’t want anything more than a hot young thing to warm your bed occasionally, and that used to be enough for me, but I’m twenty now, and it just isn’t anymore.”

Chris straightens up, eyes seeming to somehow get even colder. “What are you saying, Stiles? That this is done? I give you a week before you’re texting me, begging me to come over because no one else can satisfy you. No one else _gets_ you the way I do. If you’re trying to threaten me, it’s not going to work.”

“I’m through,” Stiles whispers, rubbing his hands over biceps as he wraps his arms across his chest. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m finished with being your dirty little secret. I’m done with being your booty call, available any time you want but not good enough to stay until morning. I’m over it all. I want something real, something meaningful, something that doesn’t make me feel like worthless shit the morning after because I’m good enough to fuck but not good enough to date.”

“I’m older than your dad,” Chris points out, his lips pressed into a firm line as he keeps staring at Stiles. “Hell, I’m _friends_ with your dad. You can’t tell me you seriously want us to date, to play at being a happy couple when we’ve both got more baggage than we know what to do with, because that’s not who we are, Stiles. God. Where the fuck is all this coming from? For two years, this has been enough. So what changed? If you can’t handle fucking without wanting some fairy tale, you aren’t as grown up as you want to believe.”

“What changed? Maybe the fact that you started coming over for dinner? Maybe the fact that we spend just as much time talking as fucking? Maybe the fact that you binge watch stupid reality shows with me and it feels good not to be alone?” Stiles shakes his head. “ _We_ changed, old man, and that’s why you running away before the come is even dry upsets me. Don’t put this on me being childish or immature. I’m the one willing to accept what we’ve become. You’re the one avoiding it, content to run off and act like everything’s still rough sex with no emotions except lust.”

“I’m not running away,” Chris snarls, throwing his belt on the ground and stalking towards Stiles. The wall is hard behind his back as Chris shoves him into it, and Stiles doesn’t have time to say anything before Chris’ mouth is on his. It’s a desperate kiss, rough and wild, punishing. Stiles returns it, channeling all of his frustration and anger and hurt into it as he bites at Chris’ mouth.

As they kiss, Chris reaches between them, shoving Stiles’ sweatpants down around his thighs and wrapping his fingers around his dick. He jerks him off expertly, knowing exactly how to stroke and how firm and the right twist of the wrist needed to get Stiles hard and aching in no time. Stiles is whimpering into the kiss, Chris taking advantage of his parted lips by licking into his mouth, deepening the kiss as he jerks him off. Realizing what he’s doing, Stiles has to gather his strength before pushing Chris away. It would be so easy to give in again, to let the desire control him, but he can’t keep falling into the same trap.

“I told you, I’m done.” Stiles’ lips are sore from where Chris has bitten at them, his voice low and hoarse, the words a struggle to say because he doesn’t actually mean them. But he has to start believing them because this isn’t good for either of them. It’s unhealthy, to say the least, and they both deserve better. He licks his lips and stares at Chris for a moment, letting his own mask slide away for a moment, showing his vulnerability and sincerity before he pushes past him to walk to the door of his bedroom. “You need to be gone when I get out of the bathroom. Goodbye, Chris.”

There’s silence behind him, which is to be expected. Chris isn’t going to fight him. Not about this. It’s just going to require that Stiles keeps focused next time Chris comes over and wants to pick things up like this never happened. They’ve never reached this point before because Stiles just drops it, letting Chris leave despite knowing the cycle will continue. This time, he’s made one last effort but it’s time to let go if he can’t have more.

“Please don’t,” Chris whispers, his words soft and wrecked as they reach Stiles. He stops by the door, biting the inside of his check but refusing to turn around. Chris makes a noise that sounds almost like a sob before he says, “Stiles. Don’t leave me. Please don’t.”

The please makes him turn around, and the sight of Chris looking scared and uncertain has him crossing the room. “I won’t,” he promises, moving into Chris’ arms. He kisses his face as he touches his jaw. “I won’t leave you.”

“Need you,” Chris breathes against his cheek, the words barely audible. Just warm puffs of air as Chris hugs him close and buries his face against his neck. “Sorry. So sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Stiles whispers, stroking Chris’ hair, closing his eyes as he wraps his arms around Chris and hugs him tight. 

This isn’t going to fix everything. He’s not stupid regardless of his behavior with Chris over the years. But it’s enough to give him hope. To make him think maybe he hasn’t been delusional this whole time. To make him believe that Chris cares about him as something more than just a casual fling. It’s enough of a gesture to make him willing to give Chris time, and that’s all that really matters.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


End file.
